


Oliver Wood and Floral Print Couches

by princessm44



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Boys Kissing, Drunken Confessions, Fluff, Frottage, M/M, an unnaturally fluffy marcus pls forgive me, he doesn't cuss nearly enough in this whoops, just the boys being cute, literally no plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 07:58:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6044053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessm44/pseuds/princessm44
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marcus spots Oliver at a pub and somehow ends the night at his flat, sitting on a very ugly couch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oliver Wood and Floral Print Couches

**Author's Note:**

> i apologize for such a fluffy marcus but in my mind drunk marcus is horribly fluffy, also my grammar is shit so i apologize in advance for any mistakes  
> btw i wrote this trash at 3am because i feel strongly that the world needs more marcus/oliver fics  
> 

Marcus stands in an unfamiliar living room.

He has no idea what he is doing here. It seemed like such a good idea at the pub.

He takes in the small floral print couch. Which is, he thinks, a truly horrid yellow color. There's a coffee table and a painting of sunflowers hanging over the mantle and a bookshelf in the corner, probably filled with nothing but quidditch magazines.

That last thought almost makes him laugh until he remembers where he is.

 _God,_ he _really_ has no idea what he is doing.

It had started as just another night out with Adrian. They had gotten good and tipsy at Adrian's flat before catching a Floo to their favorite pub and was surprised to find it so packed and noisy on a Tuesday night. It had taken Marcus only a second to realize why.

There had been a match tonight. Puddlemere against Wasps. And it was a tradition for some of the nicer quidditch teams to buy the losing team drinks afterward. Which was all fine and dandy to Marcus except with the excess amount of people in the small pub, there didn’t seem to be any open tables.

Marcus was about to turn to Adrian and suggest going someplace else when he suddenly heard a man laugh somewhere in the back of the pub.

The sound instantly filled him with dread. It was loud and genuine and completely familiar. It was the sound he had heard after every losing match against Gryffindor.

Marcus shifted to the left and there, sitting in a booth with his teammates, his head thrown back in laughter, exposing a long pale neck was Oliver fucking Wood.

His brown hair was messy and windswept, but Marcus remembered how it curled just slightly at his ears, and when he smiled wide like that you could see a dimple on his left cheek.

There was that familiar twist in his gut that he hadn’t felt since school. And the words, _we need to leave fucking now,_ were on Marcus’ tongue when Wood caught his eye.

Marcus watched as the laughter died in his throat. Wood’s smile turning slowly into a frown, his dark eyes suddenly very wide and confused.

He considered turning around right then but quickly decided that would be quite cowardly. And besides, what would he even be running from? Some schoolboy rivalry? Well, they weren’t in school anymore. Hadn’t been for five years now. There was no reason why they couldn't be in the same pub as one another. And anyway Wood did look sorta cute all confused like that...

Marcus gave a nod to Wood, not even realizing what he was doing until he heard Adrian's voice beside him ask, “Oi Marcus, who you smiling at?”

But Marcus didn’t answer because Wood was looking at him now with a mixture of surprise and wonder. And then the look disappeared and there was a smile, small and slow, like a secret, kept only between the two of them.

Then Wood leaned into his teammates and said something motioning his head towards Marcus. He watched as they nodded in return and Wood stood up and walked towards him.

“Go get a drink,” Marcus said to Adrian, his eyes still glued on Wood.

“What are you looking--” Adrian stopped talking when he caught sight of Wood walking towards them. He rolled his eyes but walked to the front of the bar as told.

“Hiya Flint, fancy seeing you here,” Wood said, a stupid smile still plastered on his face.

“Yeah well, didn’t know it would be so crowded,” Marcus mumbled. “Congrats by the way.”

Wood laughed suddenly, the sound tearing through Marcus like a dull knife.

“What?” Marcus scowled.

“I never thought I would ever hear you say those words, Flint.” Wood leaned forward on the balls of his feet, “I rather like it.” He smiled and smelled like fire whiskey and the soap they keep in quidditch locker rooms.

“Were not playing against each anymore Wood.” Marcus said.

“No, we're not.” Wood agreed in a quieter voice.

There was a bit of an awkward silence as they stared at one another. But it wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable, just unfamiliar as they were only used to standing face to face to yell or fight with each other. And now he rather didn’t know what to say.

Marcus was glad when Adrian showed up, although he was empty handed. He nodded to Wood before turning to Marcus and said, “Lines bloody long and besides there's nowhere to sit. Maybe we should just head out.”

Marcus opened his mouth to agree? Disagree? He wasn’t even sure but his thoughts were drowned out by Wood’s yell of protest. “You can’t leave! You just got here. And anyway you can sit with us.” He motioned his hand back towards a booth that was nearly full with quidditch players.

“Thanks, Oliver but really I oughta go. Think I drank one too many at my flat before heading out.” Marcus knew this was a lie. Adrian had drunken the same amount as Marcus himself had and really, besides feeling a little tipsy, he was fine.

Adrian continued, “But I’m sure Marcus wants to stay. Don’t you?” He turned and asked.

Marcus looked at Woods eager face, his cheeks flushed from the alcohol. “You should. Stay I mean.” Wood paused then added, “I’ll buy.”

Marcus heard himself laugh and blamed the alcohol. “Alright then.” Marcus said in more cheery voice then either Adrian or Wood was used too. He swore Wood’s eyes gleamed.

They had squeezed side by side into the booth and chatted with only each other and drank far too much and before Marcus knew what was happening Oliver was inviting him over to his flat.

“Right now?” Marcus asked a bit stupidly.

Oliver laughed, “Yeah right now. Teams leaving.” Marcus looked around and sure enough, people were filling out as the pub was closing. Had they really talked for over two hours? He must have lost track of time. Having Wood smile and joke with was almost a surreal experience.

“Come on,” Oliver nudged his shoulder, “It's still early.”

Oliver was right and if Marcus was being honest with himself, well then he would have to admit that right in that moment, he would have followed Oliver Wood anywhere.

But now as he stood in Oliver’s tiny living room he really had no idea what he had been thinking. He was feeling rather nervous which was something he wasn’t used to. That thought made him scowl. Oliver making him nervous. How utterly insane the night had turned into.

Oliver went off into the kitchen to get drinks. He supposed he should sit down, less Oliver walked back in to find him still standing there like a bloody idiot. He eyed the horribly yellow couch again before taking a deep breath and sitting down. ___________________________________________________________________

Oliver walked back into the room carrying two cups of tea.

“I put honey in yours.” He said with a pleased smile, setting both cups on the table in front of them.

Oliver had changed into pajamas pants when they had arrived and Marcus tried hard to ignore the way the plaid material clung low on his hips. Marcus forced himself to make eye contact to keep from ogling him any further.

“Thanks.” Marcus said still staring into those wide brown eyes that he kinda thought were absolutely beautiful.

Oliver smiled and plopped himself beside Marcus on the couch.

Marcus grinned for no other reason than pure happiness. He was never this happy and he made a mental note to worry about it later. All previous thoughts and doubts were forgotten.

Instead, he said, “I love honey.” Which was a lie. Marcus hated honey but he loved the way Oliver’s thigh felt pressed up against his own and how his fingertips were lightly brushing Marcus’ leg, so he took a big gulp of the tea before setting it back on the table.

“So do you see much of anyone from Hogwarts these days? Besides, Pucey that is.” Oliver asked, his tone almost too casual.

“Uh, no, not really. Too focused on quidditch to have many mates.” Marcus paused then added, “And I was a bit of a tosser really. People found me unpleasant to be around apparently.” Marcus joked, knowing full well how he had behaved at school and how he still behaved now.

Oliver laughed, _"A bit_ _of a tosser?_ Really?”

“Okay _fine,"_ Marcus said grudgingly, pushing his shoulder into Oliver's. “I was a complete wanker.” They were now pressed shoulder to thigh and Marcus wondered if Oliver was aware of the fact. He didn’t want to make things awkward by assuming anything so he tried to focus on the conversation.

Marcus cleared his throat and continued, “But you could never say I wasn’t passionate about the game. So passionate in fact that--” Marcus was suddenly cut off when Oliver grabbed him by the shirt and yanked him forward to kiss him hard on the mouth.

The kiss was angry and desperate and Marcus froze in shock. He couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that Oliver Wood was _kissing him._ He thought he might have gotten too drunk and was now lying in ditch somewhere imagining all of this because how could this be real when Marcus has fantasized about this very moment since sixth year?

But when Oliver parted his mouth slightly and traced a tongue along Marcus bottom lip, Marcus realized he should probably be giving something back and jumped in the kiss with fever. Opening his mouth slightly, their tongues met and everything fell apart.

He wrapped both arms around Oliver's back, one hand sliding easily through his hair while the other pushed under his shirt and gripped the skin tightly. He pulled Oliver's hair and dove his tongue farther into Oliver's warm mouth, making the boy moan.

 _"Marcus."_ He groaned, and if that's how Oliver sounded when he said his name then Marcus felt like a fool for all those years wasted fighting on the quidditch pitch.

That thought brought him back to the present and it took all his will power to pull away. Oliver tried to follow his mouth but Marcus laid a hand gently on his chest. Oliver looked up confused.

“Wha--”

Marcus shushed him with a small kiss. Quick and chaste but Oliver's eyes fluttered closed all the same and his body went pliant under Marcus’ hand. He left it there because he liked the feel of Oliver's heart beat beneath his palm.

“I just need to say something,” Marcus said his voice slightly shaky and that surprised him. He didn’t realize how much this moment really meant to him.

“It's just that I’ve dreamed about this since I was sixteen but I never thought that you--and I--well, I really don’t want to mess this up by not saying-- _fuck--"_ He let out a frustrated sigh. He could say this to Oliver. He _needed_ to say it. “Shit, okay here it goes. I want to apol--”

“Stop.” Oliver said, “I know what you're going to say but don’t. Please.”

Marcus frowned. He was confused and slightly upset. “But at school--”

“We hated each other, yes I know but Marcus we’re not kids anymore, we don’t need to fight and you don't need to apologize to me. Yeah you were a complete wanker but so was I! And besides you said you’ve wanted this since you were sixteen right?” Oliver asked, his eyes not meeting Marcus’.

Marcus nodded, only a little angry with himself for letting that bit of information slip.

“Well so have I.” Oliver whispered. He finally flicked his eyes up to look at Marcus and even though he looked just as nervous his eyes shined with stubborn dedication.

It was the look that accompanied Oliver to any Hogwarts quidditch game and that used to make Marcus want to bash his head in. Not because he knew that look meant Oliver was going to give it his all but because it reminded him of the fact that he’d never wanted anyone as much as he wanted Oliver Wood. Rival quidditch team and a fucking boy no less.

But Marcus isn’t sixteen anymore and if Oliver wants a clean slate then he can have it.

So Marcus does the only thing he can think of at the moment and presses his lips to Oliver’s. Oliver sighs into the kiss, holding Marcus head in between both his hands. He nips and sucks at his lips and Marcus can feel himself growing hard in his jeans.

 _"God,_ Marcus.” Oliver breathes, “I want you so bad.”

And like a flash Marcus pushes Oliver over so he’s lying on his back as he starts to kiss and suck marks onto his pale neck. He slides his hands down Oliver's body and slips them under his shirt, feeling the skin of his chest and stomach. He pinches a nipple and Oliver yelps making Marcus laugh.

“Arsehole.” Oliver growls. Marcus is still smiling as he nips at an earlobe when Oliver presses his hands to the small of his back. His hands slide dangerously low as their kisses became more wet and hot

“Your body is fucking _amazing."_ Marcus' voice is deep and he digs his fingernails hard in Oliver's skin then _drags_ them down his ribs making Oliver squirm under him and whimper.

Then Oliver is grabbing Marcus’ arse and pushing him down while he lifts his hips to grind their privates together. Both boys moan into each other mouths and Marcus thrusts his hips over and over again until they both come in their pants like teenagers, with loud groans and quickened breaths.

After a short snog Oliver pushes at Marcus to sit up. “Come on let's go clean up.” He motions his head towards a bedroom.

Marcus stands and takes a step when he feels Oliver pulling on his sleeve. He looks over to see him biting his lip and rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “You can um, stay if you want you know.”

Marcus tries not to smile and fails miserably. He slides his hand into Olivers. “Of course, I want to stay Oliver.” He tells him, “In fact you may never get me to leave.”

Oliver's face breaks into a grin and Marcus knows that everything is how it should be.

**Author's Note:**

> i got tired and rushed the ending whoops  
> thanks for the read :3


End file.
